


Demon with Nine Lives

by Reiko009



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Fix-It, Gay, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiko009/pseuds/Reiko009
Summary: After Crowley's ultimate sacrifice comes an opportunity - one that reunites him with a new version of Team Free Will in a world in need of a leader. If the Apocalypse ends in a draw - what reason is there to pick sides? And why can't the King of Hell claim back what is his? This time with loyal friends and a good man at his side. Is it all too good to be true, or is this also part of God's grand design?





	1. Chapter 1

The searing pain, like having one’s bones melted, faded away quickly. Crowley didn’t know exactly what to expect upon regaining consciousness – but he knew that he was dead again. Wherever he was, it was too cold to be Hell. He found it funny that he could sense temperature, being kaput and all. Purgatory perhaps? He wasn’t exactly a monster, but with how fucked-up the world was now – he wouldn’t have been surprised if that had become his new fate.

However, it was far too quiet to be Purgatory. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. No sounds at all except for a light breeze picking up dust from the barren, cold, flat landscape. Maybe he was in the Wastes? One of the top tiers of Hell, one which he was not inclined to ever visit, as there was no opportunity for advancement. The souls in the Wastes lingered for eternity without fear of Hellfire but remained too unclean to be taken up by any angel’s grace.

For a while, Crowley roamed in peace, trying to come to terms with his new situation. His soul could use a rest. But it soon became apparent that there was something wrong. He coughed and spluttered when a cloud of dust fell upon him – burning his eyes and causing him to choke. He was still wearing a meat suit – the same one he had died in, so far as he could tell. How was that possible? Had he not sacrificed himself properly? Had he failed? The thought made him feel incredibly guilty, another thing he didn’t think he should be able to feel anymore.

He tried using some of his Demon mojo, as Dean had called it, to get himself out of this mess. But nothing happened, as if he had emerged inside an enormous Demon Trap. By now his polished leather shoes were getting sort of grimy and his suit mottled gray. Being dead, he didn’t need anything like food or sleep. He was terribly bored – and rather lonely. No other souls appeared, which made him doubt that he was ever in the Wastes. And how _had_ he managed to remain corporeal?

Hours passed before the sound of a car’s engine broke through the eerily quiet atmosphere. Crowley couldn’t see it, but he followed the direction the sound had come from even long after it had disappeared. There was a _road_ and a bloody wire _fence_. Still on earth then – in the living world. Although, whatever had happened here bore all the marks of having been blasted clean from an H-bomb. There were no plants or animals anywhere. Crowley contemplated the chances of his body getting cancer if his Demon Powers remained inaccessible.

The landscape finally began to change. It was a sudden shift, from desolation back to rolling hills covered in brush. There were insects flying about, puddles of muddy water, and more signs that this had once been a frequented highway. Powerlines and small trees came next. The sun was hanging low in the sky, turning the world golden. Artificial lights twinkled in the distance at what looked like a few houses and a little truck stop. Finally, he could figure out what the fuck was going on.

Coming in on foot, dusty and in a fancy suit, had probably been a mistake. The man behind the counter pulled a gun on him before he even got a chance to speak.

“Woah, now!” Crowley put up his hands, alarmed but not afraid. “Just asking for directions.”

“What are you?” The man asked, in the raspy voice of a chain smoker.

“Er…” How was he to respond to that? “Lost?”

The man relaxed a little, but didn’t put the gun down. “What’s in it for me, eh? Going to make it worth my while if I help ya, or slit my throat after? You ain’t human.”

Again, how this man could come to that conclusion made Crowley nervous. “No… I’m not human.”

“Take a seat, mate. Stay over there and I might be made amenable, eh?” The man pointed to an empty table and chairs by the front window with his gun.

Crowley sat down, obediently… at least for now. “Am I… is this Canada?” Both the weather and the man’s speech patterns started to create a picture as to Crowley’s location.

“Aye. Just outside the Fourth Site – but you should know that. So which are you? Angel or demon?” The man pressed.

“Er… either way, you know that gun isn’t going to kill me.” Crowley hoped he sounded confident.

“Demon then. Well, _shit_. What are you doing topside?” The man put down the gun. “Are there others?”

Crowley was more confused than ever. This man knew he was a demon and wasn’t going to shoot? “No. I’m alone. Is the… Fourth Site that bloody, barren wasteland I’ve just come from?”

“You really _are_ lost, eh? Fuck. Been hiding down in Hell for the past three years, or what?” The man put the gun back underneath the counter and picked up his cup of coffee instead.

“Something like that.” Maybe Crowley _had_ died. “What year is it?”

The man’s reply made even less sense. He just pointed to a large calendar on the wall with big red x’s marking the passing days. It was only the day after he had ganked himself with that cursed knife, in an attempt to seal Lucifer away in the other reality. Something else was going on.

“Er… so, what is this… Fourth Site? Looks like a fuckin’ nuke went off.” Crowley tried to laugh, but it didn’t quite come out right. He was too anxious.

“Scars left from the Apocalypse. How deep in Hell were you hiding not to know that?” The man looked like he might have changed his mind about putting the gun away.

“The Apocalypse?” Crowley floundered. “But… but it didn’t happen. The cage…” Suddenly Crowley realized where he was. Just as they had attempted to seal Lucifer away into the alternate reality, he must have been thrown into yet another one. “Who won?” Crowley asked, desperately.

“No one _won_. The Archangels destroyed themselves in seven battles that nearly obliterated the fucking planet. Out there… the Fourth Site, eh? Nothing lives in the craters they left behind. Your kind usually avoids it like the plague.” The man seemed to have decided that Crowley wasn’t a threat, but he still looked at him as if he might somehow grow an extra head.

“Er… what does that…? I mean, where does that leave us? Demons and… all that.” Crowley had never seriously considered what he would do _after_ the Apocalypse, if he survived.

The man looked blankly at Crowley for a bit, and then walked around the counter and took the other empty chair before continuing. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” Crowley wasn’t about to explain why.

“If there is a God… they couldn’t seem to care less, it seems. As both sides were rendered leaderless, factions sprang up in their place. Most of the Hosts of Heaven seem to be of the opinion that their next mission is to wipe out all evil – but it was too easy for them to just kill anyone or anything that they didn’t fancy. Demons, monsters… even humans. The initial culling made it clear that they were anything _but_ benevolent beings – if the Seven Sites hadn’t already convinced us of that.” The man took a long drink from his coffee.

“The power grab to control Hell was brutal at first, until it became clear that anyone who emerged victorious would be hunted down by angels, eh? It didn’t take long for some of them to side with the monsters… and some with humans. Makes for great TV, when the blasted thing works anyway.” He finished his cup of joe and looked longingly at the apparently malfunctioning television mounted to the wall in the corner.

“Er. Could be worse, I suppose. Any word on who’s winning now?” Crowley was just glad he hadn’t found himself in a world under Michael or Lucifer’s control.

“No. TV hasn’t been working for almost a week now. Some angel probably blasted the satellite. Fights break out now and then… people die - but we are all kind of… in limbo, eh?” The man got up. “Going to close up soon. You need anything?”

Crowley got up as well. “This body seems to be working… surprisingly well. Just point me in the direction of the action and I’ll head the other way.”

This time the man laughed. “Then I’d say... go to Hell.”

***---***---***

After the store owner locked up and bid Crowley a good night, the demon found a car that no one seemed to care enough about to lock, and after some fiddling was able to get it to start. It was a terrible mustard color with dark, rusty patches here and there. His mojo felt weak now, instead of missing. Whether that was from his proximity to one of the Sites, or simply having been drained dry from being transported to this reality – he wasn’t sure. At least he had a set of stolen wheels to rely on now, instead of having to walk everywhere.

He drove south, if for no other reason but to escape the lingering cold. It got chilly without the sun, even though it was supposed to be Summer. Normally, Crowley didn’t have to worry about things like that. And it was fun to break the speed limit and run every stop sign he passed, even if there seemed to be little or no traffic to worry over anyway. Old habits die hard and all that.

Some hours later he started formulating a plan. He wasn’t exactly keen on trying to make it back to his own time and place – not after so nobly sacrificing himself for the greater good. Instead, he would try and track down news of his counterpart in _this_ reality. Would he even still be alive? And if Michael and Lucifer had both gained vessels – did that mean the Winchesters were gone as well? Not that he was pining for them or anything… but he didn’t exactly have any other friends. If that is what they were. Friends with the bloody Winchesters. Reality jumping had all kinds of possibilities, he supposed.

There wasn’t anyone guarding the border into the United States. Crowley didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. Civilization seemed battered, but otherwise intact. However, he really had no idea what that meant for the world governments – especially now that the whole business of angels, demons, and monsters seemed to be out in the open. Some towns he passed through seemed as lively as ever, while others were boarded-up and deserted.

The car ran out of gas.

Crowley left it in the middle of the road and walked until he found what he was looking for – a suitable crossroads. Tracing a sign in the dirt summoned a young woman with long, dark hair and even darker eyes.

“What is it? Why are you out in the open like this?” The girl demanded immediately.

“Hello, love. Nice to see a friendly face.” Crowley drawled.

“Who are you? Why have you summoned me?” She didn’t let up.

“Calm down. I just need some information. And perhaps… a ride.” He lifted his eyebrows, trying to look seductive. He probably just looked ridiculous, however, as he was still covered in dirt.

“So ask. And make it quick.” She looked around, frightened.

Crowley hadn’t seen any sign of any angel, but he was starting to feel insecure. “Do you know the whereabouts of the demon Crowley?”

“Dead. Was making nice with the humans, trying to rally more to the cause – got shafted by an angel for his trouble. But that was over a year ago. What did you want with him?” She looked confused by his question. Par for the course, really.

“I’m an old friend. I’ve been out of the loop for a while, see? Something is wrong with my mojo.” He was expecting her to ask for something to bargain with next, but she surprised him.

“Where do you need to go? I know of only two safe houses.” She didn’t seem to want anything from him at all. Had they really become so desperate?

“Er… I know a place… if it is still there, anyway.” He ventured the Men of Letter’s bunker could still be the Winchester’s base – even if the brothers themselves were gone. The demon just offered her hand and they disappeared, just like that.

***---***---***

They reappeared in a cluster of trees not too far from the bunker’s main entrance. There were fresh car tracks on the gravel, so even though the lights were out – someone was inside. Crowley’s demon companion looked wary, but followed him to the door. No salt lines or demon traps, which was a good sign.

“What is this place?” She asked.

“What’s your name?” Crowley asked instead of answering.

“Laura.” She said blandly – probably an alias.

“Well, _Laura_ , this is where I’m expecting to meet up with more old friends. Don’t know how they will take to seeing two demons though, so be ready to get us out in a jiffy, just in case.” Again, he tried to exude confidence, but wasn’t sure how well he managed it.

He was about to knock on the door when there was a slight crunching of gravel behind them.

“Who are you?” Came a familiar, deep voice.

“An angel! It’s a trap!” Laura promptly vanished after looking daggers at Crowley.

Crowley just hoped that this version of Castiel would hear him out before blasting him into a million pieces. Otherwise he would be very dead, very soon. The angel looked much like the one he had recently left behind – trench coat and all.

“Castiel. This is something I never thought I’d say – but it is good to see you. Who else made it?” Crowley’s insides were trembling, but he thought he managed enough bravado not to show.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Castiel looked confused.

“Er… so are you… technically. But here we are.” Crowley didn’t know how much longer he could fake it.

Castiel just stared at him for a few seconds – it was incredibly uncomfortable. “You aren’t really him, are you? Something… isn’t right. Where did you come from?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley looked down at himself. Other than his rumpled and dirty suit, he looked more or less like he usually did – so far as he could tell.

“I mean you aren’t from here. Not from this time – or space. Where did you come from?” Castiel repeated.

Crowley was surprised that Castiel could tell just by looking at him. But he was grateful that they seemed to know each other still, in any case. “There was a tear between worlds. I came from a reality where we managed to stop the Apocalypse, but where Lucifer still ran free. We finally stopped him… but I ended up here somehow.” He thought his own explanation sounded a bit far ‘fetched, even if it was the truth.

“I suppose stranger things have happened.” Castiel replied, but made no move.

“Er… so are we going to just stay out here on the porch talking, or are you going to let me in?” Crowley asked, hopefully. He really wanted to enjoy a strong drink after all this.

Chains appeared on his wrists and around his ankles. Familiar, rune-covered chains that bit into his flesh and squandered every last vestige of his demonic power. Crowley let out a sigh – this was the better option to being killed on sight, he supposed.

“Are these really necessary?” Crowley complained anyway.

“If you aren’t _our_ Crowley, you could still pose a threat. I’ll let the others decide what to do with you.” Castiel opened the door himself and marched the demon down the stairs.

The bunker had seen some serious action. It wasn’t as tidy or as clean as Crowley expected to find it – with no convenient bottles of whiskey out in the open for him to steal. But the back rooms still seemed occupied. It was early morning by now, so some lights were on. But no one emerged to greet them as they walked past.

“Who all is here? I heard about the Seven Sites, but not about which vessels Michael and Lucifer took. Dean and Sam… are they…?” Crowley drifted off.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Castiel replied cryptically, much to Crowley’s annoyance.

“There’s no reason to be so uptight – it was just a question.” He was lead into an all too familiar room and tied to a chair. He hated seeing his old prison cell. “Oh, not this again!”

Castiel didn’t reply, but Crowley did see a sliver of feeling come over the angel’s face at his last despairing remark. This Castiel might be acting cold, but something told him he would warm up and act like the angel he knew before too long. The door was shut and Crowley was left alone.

***---***---***

Thankfully, it wasn’t too much longer before someone returned – but it wasn’t who Crowley was expecting. Bobby Singer rushed in, looking wide-eyed and desperate. It was a look Crowley had never seen the old hunter with before.

“Bobby, wait.” Came another familiar voice. Sam trailed in next, hot on Bobby Singer’s heels.

Seeing them both alive and whole surprised Crowley into silence for once. And Bobby was giving him the strangest look. Dean came in next, followed by a red-haired woman he might have seen once or twice. Castiel came in last, looking a bit peeved at the commotion his news must have elicited.

“It’s really him.” Bobby said after a moment longer.

“It isn’t really. And that doesn’t mean he knows about… what happened.” Sam was talking to Bobby, seeming to ignore Crowley completely.

“So we get some Holy Water and find out.” Dean suggested, still only to the others.

“No!” Bobby disagreed, uncharacteristically. “Leave him be. Cas?”

“He doesn’t appear to be working against us. I followed the other demon back to her hideout. They are clean.” Castiel offered. Crowley mustered a half second of pity for Laura before forgetting her completely.

Bobby looked hopeful.

“This doesn’t mean… that they are _all_ coming back.” The woman with red hair added, reluctantly.

This statement seemed to make the room go quiet.

Crowley had had enough. “Well, look at you all. I trust you did right this time and left my dear old mum out of things? Anyone else in this secret hideout I should be introduced to?”

“Uh… we are all that’s left. Rowena… didn’t make it.” Sam replied, looking guilty.

“Oh. Well, can’t say that I’ll miss her all that much. But I take it you didn’t lose just her.” Crowley surmised. “Has this got anything to do with this world’s Crowley?”

“Yes.” Bobby’s face was starting to sober-up into the grouchy pout he always used to wear.

“You… that is to say, uh, he… died last year. We made a stand against Naomi. Garth, Kevin, Benny, and Jo… they didn’t make it either.” Sam continued. “He… burned off her wings. Cas did the rest. Anyway… she isn’t a problem anymore.” Crowley could tell there were a lot of details missing, but decided it was good enough for now. Everyone looked miserable at the mention of their fallen comrades.

“Right.” Crowley had no idea who some of those people were, but thought it best not to ask. “Well, not too different from my reality then. So what are you lot up to now?”

Everyone sort of looked to someone else to answer.

“I think it best not to tell you too much all at once. We don’t know why you came back in the first place. What are you after?” Castiel asked, sagely.

Crowley hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t think I can go back – I’m dead there as well. Or I’m supposed to be at least. Not sure why I’m not now.” This was perhaps the greatest mystery – as he remembered plunging the knife into his chest and the pain that came after.

“I could… scan your memories. If you would allow it.” Castiel offered. The way he asked must have been a testament to how well his other self had been accepted into this little group. It was a bit revolting, if Crowley was honest. He grimaced, but nodded his consent.

Cas put his hand over Crowley’s eyes. It was hot and the light blinding – his demonic parts rebelling at the intrusion of Grace. He could feel the angel going too deep, further back into things best left alone and that were private. He felt violated and angry. But when Cas removed his hand and the light faded, he didn’t sic the rest of the team on him – which must have meant he had found enough to convince them he wasn’t a threat. Either that, or had collected enough to blackmail him into doing anything he wanted – Crowley realized too late.

“This Crowley has more demon left in him than ours – darker, but… honest. He isn’t a threat.” Cas concluded.

“Is that what the fuck is wrong with my mojo?” Crowley felt sick. “Yours went soft then?”

“He took in blood to stay mostly human. I’m sure we could make similar arrangements.” Dean said, almost as a warning.

“None for me thanks. But I wouldn’t say no to some Scotch.” Crowley tried.

Bobby laughed. “Well, some things don’t change, at least.” And with a nod from Cas, Bobby removed the rope and chains.

***---***---***

The woman’s name was Charlie. She had a noticeable limp, but otherwise appeared perfectly capable. She seemed to think they were friends. She talked incessantly – and mostly about things that Crowley didn’t understand. She showed him to his old room, a place in the bunker that this Crowley had never set foot, and talked him through where all of his things were and the normal routine of the remaining members of Team Free Will.

Sam and Dean retreated to the garage, which had become the new War Room. Bobby and Cas disappeared. So for the moment, he was stuck with her.

“Are you sure these are mine?” Crowley asked – rather appalled at the clothes he found in the closet.

“Oh come on – do you really think we have the budget to replace your Armani suits every time someone shot or stabbed you?” She rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t realize I’d signed-up to live in such… squalor.” Crowley replied mournfully.

“I bet I can convince Dean to let us out for some shopping later.” Charlie looked thoughtful. “There is a town only a few hours away with some larger shops still open.”

“Hours? Couldn’t the angel zap us there? I mean… I would do it myself, but as I said before, something inside has gone screwy. I can barely make a few sparks.” This wasn’t quite true, as he was feeling a bit more like himself now that he was out of the chains. But it might pay to feign ineptitude a bit longer.

“It would be too dangerous. Cas can move freely in and around the compound because of the wards – but outside it would just make him a target.” Charlie explained simply.

“So even with the Queen Bitch out of the way the angels haven’t given up the hunt?” Crowley rather hoped he could get back to ruling Hell someday sooner rather than later.

“Not all of the angels mean us harm. But there are still plenty who do. Hunting demons is still something they all have in common though, so it would be best to drive.” Charlie was busy looking something up on her phone and scowling. “We can take your old car. I bet you’ll like it.”

“I have a car?” Crowley asked, very surprised. “A Bentley?

“Eh… it’s a Lexus.” She shrugged.

“Could be worse.” Crowley grumbled. Now that he was free to wander around the bunker he didn’t exactly know what to do with himself. “Where's the alcohol?”

“I think there is still some beer in the fridge.” Charlie was now waving the phone around in some vain attempt that it might give her a better signal.

“I don’t drink _swill_. What else have you got?” It was becoming apparent that he wasn’t as interesting as whatever was on Charlie’s screen.

“Isn’t it a bit early? We haven’t even had lunch yet.” She replied, unhelpfully.

He ignored her and made his way to the kitchen to poke around. Bobby was there, slicing tomatoes and assembling simple sandwiches. The sight of him doing something so domestic made the whole situation feel that much more strange and uncanny. Crowley missed the gruff, ornery Bobby Singer he was familiar with – the one he lived with for several weeks only a few years ago.

“I don’t suppose the two of us ever shacked-up in this world, then.” Crowley said from the doorway, startling the poor man so bad that the knife he was using clattered to the floor.

“Eh… he… er… What?!” Bobby swung around, quite red in the face.

“Only joking. But I did stay at your house once. Did it… still get burned down?” Crowley asked carefully.

“Er… no. I mean, not exactly. It was destroyed… First Site.” Bobby retrieved the knife and went to the sink to rinse it off.

“Have you got mustard for those? I like mustard.” Crowley asked, instead of searching for details – the last thing he wanted was any more _feelings_.

“Yeah… I remember.” Bobby replied, nostalgically.

Crowley didn’t need to eat, but it was something to do. He figured Bobby, of all people, wouldn’t mind if he searched around for a drink before then. The cupboards were filled with useless dishes and dated kitchen gadgets – but no food or drink could be found except in the small pantry by the fridge and in the fridge itself. There were four cans of cheap beer and the dregs of a bottle of wine, but no scotch. He sighed and poured the last of the wine into a tumbler instead and tried to imagine it into something else – but it didn’t work.

“Singer, you’ve got something good to drink stashed away somewhere – I’m sure you do.” He rounded on the old hunter, just as Charlie, Dean, Sam and Cas streamed in for lunch.

Bobby looked guilty, but didn’t reply.

“Thanks, Bobby. These look great!” Charlie said before snagging a plate and jumping onto the counter to sit. Murmurs of agreement came from Sam and Dean while Cas just watched them all eat in that strange way of his.

“Er. I made you one, too. If you want it.” Bobby handed the last plate to Crowley. It was just salami, cheese, tomato, and mustard on dark wheat bread, but it made his mouth water anyway. He took it.

Bobby ate his own sandwich in silence – it was the only one without mustard.

“Anyway… Crowley asked if we could go shopping later. How are we doing on supplies, Bobby?” Charlie asked, having finished already.

“Um… we could do with a supply run. This is the last of the tomatoes.” Bobby replied between bites.

“Great! Dean?” Charlie looked to Dean. He still seemed to be the guy in charge.

“Take Sam with you tomorrow. He can try and scout out a case.” Dean replied, after making a tremendous effort to swallow half of his sandwich in one go.

The atmosphere was still awkward – the others trying to find normalcy with one of their deceased team members present. Crowley was starting to regret coming to the bunker.

“Great.” Crowley couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. He downed the wine in one go before returning to his own half-eaten sandwich.

***---***---***

Later that day, more clothes seemed to magically appear in his closet. A suit he recognized as well as several pairs of nice slacks and silk ties. They definitely hadn’t been there earlier. Perhaps the angel had used some of his own mojo – as a sort of kindness for his rudeness at the door. Crowley groaned. The last thing he needed was charity.

But he wasn’t about to let the gift go to waste, no matter where it came from. He had been dreading having to clean himself up like a human – but with nothing better to do, and in hopes that it would make him feel better, he got on with it. He found a beard trimmer and some toiletries in one of the drawers in his room. The batteries were dead though, so he cannibalized some from what he could find in the main rooms. All of Charlie’s electronics seemed to have chargers – which was a pity.

In the showers, which he had all to himself, there were stacks of large fluffy towels and dozens of bottles of partially used soaps, lotions, and fragrances. It almost made up for the lukewarm water and inadequate lighting – but not quite. Had his other self really lived here like this all the time? It was hard to imagine. But seeing as his demonic powers were regenerating so slowly, he figured he had little choice. He was safe for now, at least.

“Oooo. Looking smart, Crowley.” Charlie cat-called, when he wandered into the garage.

Cas and Dean were deep in a private conversation off in one corner while Sam and Bobby were absent. “Er… the tie is at least serviceable, but the jacket needs mending.” Crowley wrinkled up his nose, but he was secretly pleased at her remark.

“I hear Dean is wicked good with a needle and thread.” Charlie teased, but Dean was too busy talking to Cas to overhear and comment.

Crowley sat beside her on a couch that seemed to have been dragged in from somewhere else in the bunker. “No, thank you. I’ll take it to a proper tailor unless I can fix it myself soon.” What little power that had returned to him he was trying to save up – but it was hard to prioritize what he wanted most.

“I’m making a list for tomorrow’s supply run. Sorry, I doubt we will find you a tailor.” But Charlie didn’t seem all that sorry – trying to suppress her giggles and failing.

“Laugh it up, Red. Go on. But when you’re done, fill me in on everything so I don’t feel so bloody useless.” Crowley was bored of life in the bunker already. That sobered her up.

“Er… we’ve been working smaller cases mostly. Picking off monsters that get too bold – trying to manage the fall-out between fights. You… I mean, the other you was all about making bigger plans. You fixed up Hell nice and tidy once, so I guess you have a knack for it.” Charlie shrugged.

Crowley wasn’t about to get worked up over anything less than a plot towards becoming the King of Hell once more – so this wasn’t really a surprise. “Well with Naomi out of the way, what’s stopping Cas from leading the angels back up to heaven where they belong?”

At this Castiel did glance over, probably listening to every word they said – even while conversing with Dean. Stupid angel hearing.

“It isn’t quite that simple. Cas rebelled… killed other angels. They don’t exactly care much that he was right in the end. But we think they will return eventually. There’s nothing for them here, really. Not anymore.” Charlie’s answer seemed hollow.

“I take it you haven’t heard from Chuck, then?” Crowley asked before thinking.

“Who?” Charlie looked confused.

“Ah. The mighty Creator of Worlds has yet to reveal himself. _Asshole_.” Crowley swore.

“You’re talking about… God. _The_ God.” Charlie grabbed a hold of his arm. Cas and Dean had stopped talking. There was silence for a few long moments.

Crowley looked to Castiel accusingly. “You should have seen Him, when you scanned my memories.”

Cas looked guilty. “I did.”

“So what of it?” Crowley demanded.

“There has never been a Charles Shurley or a Carver Edland in this world, as far as I could tell. If there is a version of God here… he has yet to make Himself known.” Cas said blandly, but Crowley could tell it cut him deeply to know God had manifested elsewhere.

“Oh.” Crowley pouted. Things looked like a right mess after all. “Dean and I were never besties then?”

“What?” Dean looked petrified at the thought.

“Thought not. Pity. We had great fun together.” Crowley teased.

Dean looked like he might vomit, but didn’t take the bait.

“Other version you seems to have lead quite an adventurous life.” Charlie said, a little in awe.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it? I left all of it behind. I want to know what the situation is here. Besides my apparent descent into poverty.” Crowley examined his nails.

“I forgot how much of an _asshole_ you were.” Dean spat.

“Glad I could refresh your memory. Now spill.”

All kinds of little things were different, but the big things stayed the same. The story took hours to tell. Dean made a deal with a demon to save Sam’s life, where Castiel then saved him. Lucifer and Michael propositioned the brothers for the use of their bodies for the final fight, but they both refused. The archangels found lesser vessels to make use of after a few years of being thwarted by Team Free Will, culminating in the seven battles and the absolute obliteration of all the archangels and greater demons.

“Even Gabriel?” Crowley asked.

“Even Gabriel.” Cas answered, solemnly.

“Well, _shit_.” Crowley swore. That didn’t leave them very many powerful allies.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bobby called from the hall. Everyone shuffled back to the kitchen.

“Is he the head chef now or something?” Crowley asked Charlie in a whisper.

“Er… sort of, I guess.” She looked conflicted.

“How the mighty have fallen. Bobby doesn’t seem quite right – the fire in his eyes is gone. Which is a shame. He’s been dead for years in my world – but I’m not sure if this is any better.” Crowley tried not to let any hint of concern creep into his response.

“About that… you should know…” Charlie began.

“Come now. Tuck in before it gets cold.” Bobby interrupted. Charlie blushed and rushed to get her dish, abandoning Crowley to his own thoughts.

It was homemade ground beef and chili – thick and laden with peppers, olives, and onions. A simple enough dish, but one that still made Crowley’s stomach growl. He really didn’t _need_ to eat, but no one confronted him about taking a bowl.

“Mmmm. This is good, Bobby. Thank you.” Dean was slurping up his portion with gusto.

“That’s the last of the peppers, too. Sorry, Sam.” Bobby said apologetically to the taller Winchester, who must have been helping out with dinner preparations. Crowley had a faint memory that he had an unnatural fondness for vegetables. Sam just shrugged.

“You know – once upon a time, this would be laced with Holy Water.” Crowley savored a spoonful, but the only burn came from a pleasant blend of spices.

“Er. Well, that was a long time ago.” Bobby waved his hand dismissively.

“And the showers were untainted by magic as well. You guys have gone soft.” Crowley scowled at the Winchester brothers. “Are you sure everyone is safe in here?”

“Quite.” Cas replied quickly, offended by Crowley’s taunt.

“Just checking.” Crowley said, chastened.

***---***---***

Crowley was in the library, picking out something to read for the night while the humans slept – as he wasn’t keen on chatting with the angel for hours on end. Charlie found him there after she had gotten ready for bed. She was wearing the most dreadful pajamas he had ever seen – brightly colored and covered in cartoon characters. Everyone else had retired to their rooms.

“Someone really should tell you… so I guess it will have to be me.” Charlie sighed.

“Tell me what?” Crowley asked, leafing through one of the few mystery novels in the collection.

“You were engaged… last year. When you died. You were engaged.” The words wheedled their way into Crowley conscious mind like termites.

“I was… what?” Crowley put the book back, in the wrong place, and turned to look at Charlie – face aghast. “To… whom?” Although he felt like he already knew the answer.

“To Bobby.” Charlie replied quietly.

“Oh… _hell_!” Crowley started putting the pieces together in his mind. How Bobby had rushed into the locked room that morning, the strange looks and weird behavior. The new clothes! Bobby must have... returned them. “How did _that_ happen?”

Charlie looked almost frightened. “You mean… you don’t… you didn’t…” She spluttered.

Crowley put his hands over his face. _Feelings_. He had vowed he was over them – wasn’t ever going to go back. He had become like a drug addict, taking in blood to keep pretending. To keep dreaming about being happy. Dreaming of being… loved. “ _Shit_.” The last thing he wanted was for Charlie to see his mask slide – for his _weakness_ to show itself.

A few moments later, when he had composed himself, he withdrew his hands. Charlie was still there, but looking much less frightened and more sympathetic. He _hated_ her.

“So you did care for him. At least a bit.” She had seen too much.

Crowley didn’t comment. He walked out of the room, up the stairs, and let himself out the front door. He started walking down the road. Charlie called out to him from the bunker, but he didn’t pay her any attention. Going there had been a mistake. He would find somewhere else safe to heal up – somewhere new. He could change his name – possess a new vessel. No one would find him.

But Crowley didn’t get more than a couple miles before Cas appeared.

“Leave me alone, Castiel.” Crowley spat, and kept walking. But he found that his legs wouldn’t obey him anymore. Damn angel mojo. “Let me go!”

“No.” Castiel’s voice was as commanding as ever.

Crowley slumped to the ground instead. He was not going to talk things over with an angel. He was not going back to the bunker. And he was not going to think about Bobby _Fucking_ Singer.

“You know we can do this the hard way, with the chains. But I doubt Bobby would like that much.” Cas said, sitting down beside the demon.

Crowley was _not_ going to answer that, no matter how funny the joke might have been... had he felt up to making one.

“Losing you… broke something inside him. And now you’re back. Don’t hurt him any further. _Please_.” Castiel genuinely pleaded.

“I would taint him. Tarnish his soul. Make him dirty. Is that really what you want?” Crowley bit back.

Cas sighed. “You made him happy.”

Crowley groaned. He was being asked to stay. He was being asked to take human blood again. To become weak. It was _so_ tempting. He knew that if he let his mind wander towards that possibility – he would be lost. Feelings began boiling up inside him he had thought long since abandoned.

“Hello, Castiel.” Came a third voice, out of the darkness.

They were not alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby never thought he would find happiness with another person ever again. He helped out in any way he could with the Winchester boys – treated them as if they were his own. Made a pseudo-family out of monster slayers. But any time he failed one of his hunters, grief would resurface. Alcohol wasn’t the best way to cope, but it took the edge off – helped him work through the pain.

And then came Crowley. Their banter was mean-spirited at first, because that’s what they expected out of each other. But it soon became clear that they were more alike than they were different. The biting words that passed between them became something else. Bobby thought it was a joke at first – that the flirtations were just an attempt to get under his skin. Either way it worked.

The blood transfusions changed everything. While they may have started under duress – as Crowley was still a demonic son-of-a-bitch at the time – they awakened… _more_. Despite his better judgement, Bobby was the first to offer regular donations after Sam quit the trials. But without the King of Hell, the world started to fall apart. The Apocalypse made the hidden truth common knowledge – although knowledge of the hunter’s craft remained all too scarce.

Crowley was living as a human in the bunker by then – having given up several books worth of information to the Winchesters, but which had mattered very little in the end. Bobby didn’t have anywhere else to go, seeing as his house had been destroyed when the Apocalypse began. Their ragtag gang gained some members and lost others. Bobby couldn’t quite recall the tipping point – when the banter between him and Crowley drifted back to flirtation and from there to subtle romance.

After a particularly scary run-in with some rogue angels, Bobby found comfort in the former demon’s embrace. It seemed like a miracle that he could find happiness in a world so battered and broken. They decided to not let it pass them by. Their engagement was private at first – the other hunters too busy to notice their relationship anyway. And then Naomi started her bloody campaign of weeding out anyone and anything deemed unholy in a misguided effort to purge the world of sin.

A clever strategist, Crowley designed an attack to bring her down – but things didn’t exactly go according to plan. Being a hunter is risky. You fight until you lose, hoping that you take as many monsters down with you as possible. Bobby was willing to accept that, it was how he had lived for years. Crowley hadn’t. When Bobby was in serious danger of becoming yet another casualty after the angels had taken so many of them already, Crowley intervened – shielding his partner, and lover, with all he had left.

Afterwards, in a somewhat hollow victory, the monotony of everyday life took over – Bobby went through the motions, focused only on the task at hand. He knew that if he stopped to think, he would crumble. Soon, the pain would dull to a near-bearable ache and he could use it as fuel to fight. He had lived through loss before. But perhaps there was a limit to how much one soul could bare.

***---***---***

“Cas should have been back by now.” Dean was pacing the garage floor. It had been over an hour since Charlie had started yelling at the top of her voice that Crowley had left the bunker. She kept apologizing to Bobby, over and over again.

“Relax. This is Cas we are talking about.” Sam tried to reassure his brother.

Castiel had insisted that he would be faster in fetching Crowley back if he went alone. Something that was now starting to seem ridiculous – and unnecessarily risky.

“Right. Dean and I will head out after them. Sam, Charlie… you stay here in case they come back.” Bobby offered, because watching Dean pace back and forth in worry another hundred times wasn’t going to do anyone any favors. Dean might be their leader, but every now and then he needed a kick in the pants.

“I’ll grab extra holy oil!” And Dean was off to grab supplies and to prep the Impala.

‘’Are you sure…?” Charlie started.

“I’ll look after him.” Bobby interjected. He wasn’t about to make any promises about Cas… or Crowley. His own feelings about their prolonged absence were simmering on the back burner for now.

It took all but five minutes for Dean and Bobby to check their gear and jump in the car. Charlie and Sam waved at them timidly from the garage as they pulled out into the night.

They had no idea which direction to start looking, but once they were away from the bunker and out of the wards Dean started mumbling prayers under his breath.

“Cas didn’t have his cell phone on him.” Dean had said. Although he didn’t elaborate on how he knew that.

They swept down one way for fifteen minutes before Dean turned the car around in frustration. Bobby groaned. Now Dean was pacing with the car.

But on their sweep the other direction they saw something that made their heart’s sink. There was a body lying in the middle of the road. In the dark and in the glare of the car’s lights it was impossible to make out who the prone figure might be. But the shape and visible patches of pale skin hinted at a male form in a dark suit.

“ _Shit_!” Dean cursed, stopping the car too quickly. Bobby and Dean flew out of the vehicle together and approached the figure carefully. They weren’t dumb enough not to expect a trap.

“Cas?” Dean called out, his voice breaking. Bobby had suspected the hunter’s feeling for the angel had been more than they had appeared for some time now.

But it wasn’t Cas. The fallen man had been an angel’s vessel, but was now just an empty, nameless shell. The only wound on the body was small and deep – probably Castiel’s handiwork.

Bobby and Dean looked around for an hour, trying to pick up any clue of their friends – but there wasn’t anything more to find. No blood. No more bodies. Nothing.

“CAS!” Dean yelled out in frustration. “CAS!”

Bobby put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “They escaped. Probably on the run until they can shake whoever is after them. You know Cas wouldn’t lead angels back to the bunker.” He tried to sound confident, wanting to believe his own words.

Dean screwed his face back to a mask of indifference. God, there was something so very wrong about watching Dean do that. But Bobby knew where he had learned it – which made it even worse.

“You’re right. We should… get back to the phones at the bunker. They might need us… somewhere else.” Dean looked down at the remains at the former vessel. They would need to take care of the body.

“I’ll get the shovel.” Bobby offered, heading back to the Impala.

Such were the tasks of a hunter – they knew how to dig a grave. A hollow vessel posed no threat, and it felt right to honor the human man that once lived inside, even if he had in some small part enabled their friends’ pursuers. Enemies still sounded like too strong of a word for most angels, dicks that they were.

Dean didn’t speak again until after they had lowered the body inside and began refilling the hole. “What do you suppose they were after?”

Bobby really had no idea, so he just shook his head. Desiring revenge was a _human_ failing.

***---***---***

When Dean and Bobby returned to the bunker empty-handed, Charlie looked crushed.

“I just thought it would be better to tell him. I didn’t think…” She was wringing her hands and on the verge of tears.

“Shhhhh. Shhh.” Bobby gave her the hug she so desperately needed. “Not your fault. No reason to get so worked up. You did right by me.” It seemed like the right thing to say.

Dean told them about what they had found.

“You two haven’t received any calls since we left?” Dean looked anxious, but both Sam and Charlie shook their heads. “ _Damn_.”

Bobby could tell they weren’t going to do any good without getting some rest. He delegated shifts to watch the phones, since Dean still wasn’t giving out orders. He shared a knowing look with Sam before retiring back to his room. They couldn’t do anything more.

The re-emergence of Crowley that morning had shaken Bobby. Even though it had been a year, he had never even considered removing his lover’s old things that still hung about his room. Clothes, ties, bottles of cologne – small things that had just collected during their brief time together.

But this material apparition was not _his_ Crowley. It had seemed prudent to give these items up, returning them to their new owner. He only kept a tie. A deep red scrap of silk that he couldn’t bring himself to part with. This he retrieved from its hiding place in the very back of a drawer filled with notes on things that no longer mattered. He just held it reverently.

It had seemed for a brief moment that he had been given a miracle. But Cas quickly warned him that this Crowley had no memories of them ever being together. “Perhaps, in time, they would find each other again.” At this, Bobby had laughed. No. He wasn’t going to hope for the impossible. Just seeing Crowley safe and whole after so long was more than he felt he deserved.

And then to have that gift snatched away again, within the same day – it was cruel.

Dean’s cry for Castiel kept playing over and over again in Bobby’s head and made him imagine terrible things. Whatever Dean had with Cas… they _did_ deserve a happy ending. They deserved to have their love celebrated. Bobby regretted not telling everyone about his attachment to Crowley sooner. It might not have made a difference to their fate – but perhaps it would have done Dean some good, seeing two men find happiness in each other.

The boys never talked about anything aloud. Not about things that were really important, anyway. And he didn’t exactly know how to fix it. Or how to change himself. Thank _God_ for Charlie, really – Bobby thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

Sam came and woke him at 5:00am. Bobby found he was still clutching Crowley’s red tie and was sprawled out fully clothed on top of the bed covers. Sam didn’t say anything, but his soft brown eyes were kind. Once Sam had left he placed the tie back safely in its hiding place and took his turn in the garage by their many phones.

He expected a long wait – for the sun to come up, for the rest of the gang to awaken, and to be relieved to go start on breakfast. But just as his mind was starting to wander towards what type of eggs he would prepare for everyone, one of the phones rang.

Bobby scrambled to answer. “Hello?”

“They want Crowley. We are waiting for you at Number Three. _Hurry_.” It was unmistakably Castiel’s deep, gravelly voice. But before Bobby could even think of uttering a response, the line went dead.

“Er... Cas? CAS!” Bobby tried, too late. “ _Balls_!”

Bobby hollered for the rest of the gang. “Sam! Dean! Charlie! Wake-up! We got a call!”

Dean appeared first, looking dreadful. He probably hadn’t got to sleep at all. Charlie came next, still in her colorful pajamas but looking much more rested. Sam was understandably a little slow, seeing as he had probably just laid down after completing his own shift at the phones. But they all looked to Bobby expectantly, making him feel self-conscious. Especially since he had no idea what the message he had been given even meant.

“Castiel left a very brief message and then hung up. Obviously he was worried about being overheard because what he said didn’t make much sense to me. But I reckon it will to one of you.” Bobby began. He then related the message word for word, as best as he could recall.

 “The Third Site?” Sam offered, dubiously.

“Er… an anagram maybe?” Charlie tried.

“What could the angels want with Crowley?” Sam asked. Bobby wondered that too.

They all looked to Dean.

“Number Three… was the Grand Canyon.” Dean whispered, blushing.

“How do you know that?” Charlie asked – which only made Dean squirm further.

“It was… a list. We made a list of places we wanted to go if it was ever safe for us to travel freely again. Places… sites I had driven past on the job… but never seen.” Dean’s cheeks were bright red.

“Okay…” Sam began. “The Grand Canyon is _huge_. Where would we even begin to start looking?”

At this Dean hung his head. “We… we used the old travel guides from the Men of Letter’s library. It was just for fun. Something to distract us… something Cas could work on at night while I slept. Most of it probably isn’t even around anymore after all this time.”

“You mean you picked out places to stop. Monuments. Museums. That kind of thing?” Charlie looked excited.

“Sort of.” Dean didn’t meet her eyes.

“ _Wait_ … you were planning a secret road trip with Cas… without me?” Sam teased and started to laugh.

“Where exactly at  _Number Three_?” Bobby asked gruffly. They could poke fun at Dean about this later. They needed to head out.

“Red Feather Lodge.” Dean mumbled.

“Good enough for me. Sam and Charlie, pick a car. We will lead in the Impala. It will take the better part of a day to get to Arizona. Pack up!”

***---***---***

Crowley was miserable.

After Castiel foiled his escape attempt, they found themselves surrounded by four angels – two women and two men. At first they just seemed to want to talk. They argued with Cas for a few minutes in Enochian before even acknowledging Crowley’s existence.

“What is this abomination?” Asked one angel – his vessel a shorter Asian man with a stylish haircut.

It was hard to look offended while sitting on the ground.

“You are not to touch him.” Cas warned.

“He doesn’t… look right. Even for a demon.” Another angel added. At this Crowley had to stand up and give them a proper glare – even if he was likely to be destroyed in the next few minutes. He might be able to escape one angel, if he was lucky. But four promised death.

“Castiel, our quarrel is not with you. Joshua has finally heard God’s word! A miraculous gift was left at the place Uriel fell. But we fear the enemy got there first. We have already dealt with a crossroads demon and flushed out her nest. When we felt your presence we came to share the good news – and to ask for your help in looking for what the demons have stolen from us.” The tall, fair woman was obviously their leader.

Crowley’s thoughts went to Laura. There were many crossroad demons – surely this was a coincidence.

But Cas looked even more nervous. “Muriel, the Sites are anathema to all, even demons. How could they traverse the waste to claim this gift and escape so quickly?”

“We extracted information from a man who claimed to have talked with a demon who emerged from the Site. His shop stank of brimstone.” Crowley couldn’t help note her careful use of past tense. This was starting to seem like more than a coincidence.

“Er… Castiel?” Crowley looked to the angel he knew nervously.

The other male angel, with dark hair and dressed in a nice suit, drew his angel blade. “Castiel… you aren’t helping them are you?” His gaze was fixed on Crowley.

“Zephon, sheath your blade.” Castiel warned again, this time in anger.

“This demon… he’s not like the others. He’s been… _changed_.” The perceptive angel repeated.

Suddenly all eyes were trained on Crowley. He didn’t know what they saw – but much like how Cas could tell he didn’t belong in this world, the realization must have come to the others as well.

Zephon struck first, but was pushed back by Castiel.

“No! We need them alive.” Muriel yelled.

What meager power Crowley had managed to store up had to be used then and there. He dodged a blow from one angel and tried to burn Muriel with fire summoned from his left hand. The flames singed her vessel, but nothing more. She sliced down his arm with her own angel blade, causing immense pain as his unsubstantial essence leaked out in weak red clouds.

The angel Zephon was poised to land a killing blow, enraged that Crowley had attacked his leader. But Cas was faster. There was a blinding flash as Castiel’s blade slid effortlessly into the angel’s side. The vessel crumpled into a heap on the road.

“No!” Muriel screeched.

But Castiel was already picking up Crowley from the road. They flew away, landing only briefly to shake their pursuers. Jump after jump, until Crowley succumbed to unconsciousness.

***---***---***

When he awoke, Crowley was lying in a cheap hotel room bed. His arm had been bandaged clumsily. Castiel was looking through a small gap in the curtains.

“Ouch.” Crowley complained.

“I see you’ve regained consciousness.” Cas didn’t turn around to actually look though.

“My arm burns. Couldn’t you heal me up?” Crowley gingerly rose to a sitting position.

“Yes and no. Your vessel is whole. It is your demonic part that remains hurt. The bandages were an attempt to stop any more of your form from escaping until I could attend to your injuries. Like blood, it can leave a trail.” Castiel was still speaking to the window.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Crowley was still trying to wrap his mind around all that had happened. First he was told he was engaged to Bobby Singer. Then the angels accused him of stealing some sort of gift from God. And finally, it turns out he hadn’t been spared completely from his sacrifice to keep Lucifer locked away – but had apparently been brought back defunct.

“What were those imbeciles going on about?” Crowley finally asked.

“You. God’s gift was you.” Castiel answered, finally turning to face the demon.

Crowley couldn’t help it, he laughed until tears welled up in his eyes. “He…he..he. You can’t be serious?” he replied, wiping at his face. But Cas didn’t smile in return. “No _fucking_ way God sent me here. I’m not a bloody gift to anyone!” He was adamant, the name of the Creator burning his lips.

But the more he thought about it… the more it made sense. How had he survived sacrificing himself? How had he been transported to another reality? Unless God really had intervened.

“No. No way. Nope.” Crowley shook his head, trying to dispel even the thought.

“We are going to make a few more jumps and then we are calling for help. I can’t keep you hidden for long without the proper tools.” Castiel offered Crowley a hand.

Crowley grimaced, but took it. And then the room was empty, as if they were never there.

***---***---***

The Red Feather Lodge was a modest establishment not far from the Grand Canyon National Park’s South Side. Even speeding on empty freeways and taking the shortest possible stops meant and the two vehicles still only managed to arrive near midnight after driving all day long. Cas hadn’t called again.

Everyone was exhausted. Charlie ended up riding with Bobby after several awkward attempts to try and get Dean to open up about his relationship with Castiel. Charlie had picked Crowley’s Lexus, which hadn’t been driven in a while. Thankfully it lasted the trip without popping a tire or burning oil, but Bobby was kicking himself the whole way for Charlie’s choice of vehicle – and his own reluctance to have the car serviced the past year.

The all stopped in the parking lot and got out. “Sam and I will see if we can scare any information out of the night crew with our badges. Hold tight.” Dean was finally taking charge. They weren’t wearing their suits, but they could claim to be undercover.

But moments later they came back out shaking their heads. “If they are here, they aren’t renting a room.” Sam supplied.

“So what next? Do we knock on every door in hopes that one of them answers?” Charlie sounded skeptical.

However, such tactics proved unnecessary as Cas walked out to greet them. He had abandoned his trench coat, suit coat, and tie – so they barely recognized him for a moment. There was a tremendous sigh of relief shared by all.

“Cas!” Dean leapt forward to greet his angel. They embraced, a tad stiffly, neither one wanting to make a show in front of the others – but it was obvious they only had eyes for each other.

“Where’s Crowley?” Charlie asked, before Bobby could.

“He’s inside. Room 12.” Castiel replied. “Did you bring supplies?”

“Er… we have the usual kit.” Sam stuttered.

“Bring the holy oil. I’ll explain once we are out of the open.” Cas retreated back inside, looking around nervously.

The electric door to the room had been fried to allow entrance without a key. Once everyone had crowded inside, they slid the deadbolt closed. So long as no one watching the security cameras to the hall put two and two together, they wouldn’t be disturbed for a long while.

Charlie seemed the most relieved of anyone at the sight of Crowley. The demon was sitting on a small pile of pillows on the floor inside a circle of symbols that had been carved into the cheap wood veneer floor. He looked dangerously unhappy – which of course made the whole thing even more ridiculous.

Bobby couldn’t help but smile as he asked, “What’s all that for?”

“God spoke to Joshua. Some kind of gift was said to be left at the Fourth Site. The angels want it – and mistakenly believe it was stolen by a demon. This demon.” Cas explained quickly.

“Sounds like something he would do.” Dean said without pause.

“Thank you.” Crowley replied through clenched teeth.

“But the angels didn’t know what God had made – or rather, _whom_ He had put back together and set loose.” Castiel continued. Letting the implication sink in.

“Wow. That is… not what I expected.” Sam was the first to recover.

“Er… you mean to say… Crowley…” Dean couldn’t quite seem to finish.

“ _God_ did this?” Charlie waved to all that was Crowley in awe. “Wicked plot twist.”

“So you need to angel proof the room? That doesn’t hold very long – as you well know.” Bobby had already known deep down that this whole situation stank of an omnipotent micro-manager.

“I have a plan.” Cas admitted.

“ _Now_ you’re ready to talk? I’ve been caged in here for hours like a bloody canary without any say in this ordeal. Whatever it is… I object!” Crowley complained loudly, out of spite. Everyone mostly ignored him.

“But why would God bother bringing back a… a  _demon_?” Dean asked, a little bit behind on the conversation. He cleared his throat awkwardly at the silence that followed.

It was Bobby’s turn to answer. “You are really going to question why God does anything? Especially after being brought back yourself more than once. And maybe you forgot, but this isn’t just any demon. It’s Crowley!”

Dean looked guiltily at the floor.

“So what is your plan, Cas?” Sam asked after completing additional marks on all four walls.

“Crowley isn’t built in the same way as before. We need to figure out what God changed and why.” Castiel replied coolly.

“No one is poking around my insides!” Crowley’s indignant screech could probably be heard two floors above them.

Charlie looked squeamish. “I also vote no on conducting a vivisection.”

Cas sighed. “I hardly meant that.”

Poor Sam was busy pouring the holy oil around Crowley’s circle – no one else had remembered to help. But he still managed to ask, “Go on then. How are we going to find out?”

“Well… either the change is actually within Crowley’s true essence – or it is attached to his vessel. The first step is easy. We just need Crowley to possess another body.”

“Er… that’s _all_?” Dean sounded dubious.

“While Crowley is… elsewhere, I can use my grace to examine the vessel. Otherwise, a detailed exam might do… irreparable harm to the host.” Castiel’s plan was not sounding very easy.

“Given that we even find another vessel for Crowley – which I don’t think any of us are keen on doing – what if the change has nothing to do with what he’s wearing?” Charlie asked.

“Ah… that’s the hard part.” But that was all Cas would say.

“You can’t seriously think we are going to let him romp around in an innocent person’s body – even just temporarily.” Dean complained.

“Honestly, I don’t mind changing – so long as I get to pick!” Crowley added, unhelpfully.

Sam lit the holy oil, sealing Castiel inside the circle with Crowley – the weird light making the shadows dance.

“I’ll do it.” Bobby offered.

Everyone looked at him, surprised.

“Oh, come on. We aren’t really considering using an innocent for this. It has to be one of us. And unless there are any other volunteers…?” Bobby asked the room. No takers.

“Sweet of you to offer, Bobby. But you know this doesn’t mean… you and I… we never…” Crowley did not want to have to say this so publicly. “You died! Back where I came from… you were dead.”

“As I see it, I’m just helping out an old friend.” Bobby reasoned.

Crowley considered this briefly – all while trying to ignore the four other people in the room. “Alright.”

“How long do you need?” Bobby asked Castiel as he fumbled with his anti-possession necklace.

“Not long. But using my grace to this extent might alert others to our location. So long as everything goes smoothly, once Crowley is back in his original vessel we will need to clean up and leave quickly.” Cas explained.

“And the reason we couldn’t have just done all this at the bunker?” Dean asked.

Cas gave Dean a withering look. “I wasn’t about to put your home in danger again, Dean. And I have to keep moving to make sure I don’t leave a trail. Once we are done here, meet me at Number Five.”

“Number Five.” Dean repeated, dumbly.

“Okay, enough chit-chat. Let’s get on with it.” Bobby growled. He handed his necklace to Charlie and stepped into the circle with Cas and Crowley.

“This better not be a mistake.” Dean said under his breath.

Bobby looked into Crowley’s face, checking his resolve. This felt very wrong somehow. But Crowley’s eyes turned red and before he could react, streams of red smoke engulfed him.

***---***---***

Crowley didn’t feel anything strange about abandoning his old vessel. It had served him well, but it was just a shell. He filled out Bobby’s body and looked through new eyes. Castiel was already at work, his hands bathed in white light. Crowley wasn’t used to inhabiting a body with a soul. The extra presence was nagging at him. He tried not to think about it.

 _“You know… I used to own you.”_ He thought.

 _“I assume you are referring to the agreement which you tried to back out of.”_ Bobby replied.

 _“It was all business back then. You know that.”_ Crowley bit back, defensive but unconvincing.

_“You’re an ass.”_

_“I am, aren’t I.”_ Crowley found himself agreeing.

Crowley couldn’t tell how far along Cas was in the examination process and he didn’t feel like using Bobby to talk to any of the others. Plus it was kind of nice to get some privacy.

 _“Did I die fighting?”_ Bobby almost sounded timid.

Crowley was taken off guard and didn’t quite know how to respond. “ _Without you… without what you fought to give Dean… I don’t think any of us would have survived.”_

 _“And without you… I wouldn’t be here now.”_ Bobby answered.

 _“How do you mean?”_ Crowley asked, curious.

_“You died in my arms… shielding me from a certain death. I told you, you’re an ass.”_

Crowley didn’t answer.

 _“And it wasn’t all business back then. You told me so.”_ Bobby added.

 _“I… did?”_ The problem with communicating non-verbally like this was that it was very hard to lie.

 _“Yeah_.”

 _“Shit_.” Crowley swore. But he couldn’t help the swelling feeling of hope that had formed inside him.

“Alright. Change back. Hurry.” Cas said, back in the real world.

Crowley reluctantly withdrew from Bobby and sank back into the empty, familiar body on the floor. It felt like the insides had been doused in bleach. “ _Ugh_.”

“Well?” Charlie asked.

“It isn’t the vessel.” Cas replied.

“So where does that leave us?” This time it was Sam.

“Douse the holy oil. I will repair the floor and walls. I’ll explain later.” Cas looked spent.

Dean used a bedsheet to smother the flames – as soon as they were out, the room looked as good as new. The raw power of an angel was utterly wasted on housekeeping, Crowley thought.

“Crowley…” Bobby began, but Cas interrupted.

“No time. They have found us. Take the Emergency Exit. Remember Dean… Number Five.” Cas grabbed Crowley’s shoulder and they found themselves near a beach in harsh sunlight – probably Australia.

“ _Fuck_! Warn a man before you do that.” Crowley’s eyes burned and he still felt far too clean.

“Fine. Hold on.” Cas deadpanned. They jumped again. And then again.


	3. Chapter 3

Number Five turned out to be Florence, Oregon – to see the Heceta Lighthouse, Dean added. It would take two days to get there, which made the non-angelic members of Team Free Will groan.

Cas was right about the angels closing in – the lodge was swarming with them. By now, everyone could just tell when the posture of a person was too straight, the clothes too clean and pressed, and by the icy expression worn that they should be avoided. They drove to a dump of a motel on the outskirts of town to sleep and eat before starting their trek west.

Charlie posed as Sam’s newlywed wife at check-in and Dean as Bobby’s only son. The charade worked wonders on the positively ancient old lady at the front counter. Granted, they were probably the only guests she had seen all night – or perhaps longer. Their rooms smelled of dust and dry rot.

“Better than sleeping in the car, I guess.” Dean shrugged.

Bobby was inclined to agree. Especially now that he was starting to feel his age.

Dean did not encourage conversation as they got ready for bed, and Bobby was too tired and worried about Crowley to bother. The fact that Crowley had voluntarily left his body only an hour before had rekindled something dangerously resembling hope within the old hunter.

Granted, surrounded by an angel and three capable hunters probably had something to do with how willing Crowley had been to comply with their plan of _temporary_ body-switching.

Just because it had worked between them once, didn’t mean that it would this time. As much as Crowley looked and acted like the demon Bobby knew, he had to remind himself that this was not _his_ Crowley. Bobby settled into the bed, the springs creaking with age, tried to relax, and let the feelings go. Dean wasn’t helping, tossing and turning on the other bed – trying to get comfortable.

“Cas will be fine, Dean.” Bobby offered, not expecting a reply.

But he was surprised to hear a sleepy, “God, I hope so” from across the room – Dean finally settling down to sleep for the few hours they had allowed themselves.

***---***---***

Castiel was being insufferable. They had flown to different locations around the world nearly a dozen times before the angel seemed satisfied that they had not been followed. They finally settled in what appeared to be a fishing shack very near the Pacific on a shoreline that reminded Crowley far too much of Scotland. It was gray with roiling clouds overhead and chilled with spray from the waves crashing against large, rough rocks.

“My body feels disgusting. What did you do to it?” Crowley complained, once it was clear that they were done jumping for a while – Cas marking a circle on the floor.

“I had to use a portion of my grace to do a thorough examination, cell by cell, looking for any alterations that would account for your… odd configuration. It has been cleansed and healed of even the most minor of afflictions or abnormalities.” Castiel replied, peaking out a crack in the wooden door. Crowley didn’t like that Cas didn’t seem to like to look at him when he talked.

“Well whatever you did, I hate it.” Crowley bit back.

Cas didn’t reply after finishing the circle he looked to be settling in for a long wait. It would probably be _hours_ before the rest of the gang showed up. It had been painful enough to be stuck with the angel’s silence back at the lodge in Arizona – doing it all over again was tantamount to torture. And not the good kind.

“Argh… Well, at least tell me what we are waiting for this time. What are you going to do, since it is obviously not my vessel that seems to be the problem?” The demon tried instead.

Cas did turn around this time. “There are several options to us… none of which are easy. I suppose it would be prudent to allow you to have some say in how we proceed.”

“You think?” Crowley wished he could burn the angel’s pretty face off.

“First… perhaps you could tell me… why God chose _you_?” Castiel seemed reluctant to ask.

“How the fuck should I know?!” Crowley growled. “You saw everything in my memories. I didn’t ask for this. I thought I was dead.”

“That’s what I don’t understand, I suppose. You were still… almost fully demonic. And you chose to rid that world of Lucifer – with no chance at gaining Hell back for yourself.” Cas’ blue eyes bore into Crowley. “I would not expect that of a demon.”

Crowley really didn’t want to talk about this – but he supposed it was better than more of the silent treatment. “Lucifer was… twisted and abused into something we demons thought we understood – but we were wrong. He was still an angel, even at the end. Can you imagine how it felt to meet the creator of your kind… and to be _disappointed_?”

“Yes.” Castiel answered honestly.

“Oh.” Crowley had to think on that for a moment. Perhaps Castiel’s glimpse at God through Crowley’s memories must have had more of an affect than he originally thought.

“So why did you… lock him away?” The angel asked, more direct.

“Hell has a… purpose, in the grand scheme of things. Or, at least _I_ thought it did. And we demons reveled in being what we believed to be that purpose. Lucifer simply didn’t care about that anymore.” Crowley tried to explain.

Cas just waited for more.

“I suppose it isn’t too different from you dickhead angels. Running around and causing havoc – leaderless.” The dig did not go unnoticed, but Castiel didn’t speak to defend his kind.

“I was a _shit_ human. But there is something about this middle existence – caught between Heaven and Hell and being able to choose. Complicating things from a simple black or white perspective.” Crowley felt he was starting to waffle on a bit. “It isn’t so bad to want to put things back in order. To even things up.” He decided to leave that last part vague on purpose.

“I’m just trying to understand… what God might have meant in sending you here.” Cas admitted.

“Well, what’s the only thing a demon is good _for_?” Crowley asked – wondering the same thing.

“To tempt souls into corrupting themselves.” Castiel answered.

“Precisely. And why do you think… _He_ … would want that?” Crowley encouraged, carefully.

Finally, it seemed Cas was starting to understand. “He wants us to continue to play our roles. To tempt and inspire humans. To manage Heaven and Hell.”

“Bingo.” Crowley offered.

“But to what end? If there is no ultimate judgement? No victor?” Castiel still seemed torn.

“That’s just it, Cassie. I think… _He_ … abandoned the idea of ending things at all. Oh, they will all come to an end eventually. All things die. But it isn’t about _winning_ anymore.” Crowley was convinced.

“Then what is it all _for_?” Castiel begged.

Crowley thought carefully before answering. “It’s about choosing.”

***---***---***

It was hours before Castiel was ready to pick up their conversation again. The sun had come out briefly, warming the landscape, and the whole shack was starting to smell strongly of salt and dead fish. Crowley desperately wished for a book.

“The angels haven’t… we have mostly ignored mankind for years. The world slowly became more and more… _unappealing_ as the focus of our existence – as God’s final task to us before leaving Heaven. If things were balanced...” Castiel let his thought drift away, unfinished, before continuing. “I suppose Team Free Will was an exceptionally apt name after all.”

“Fucking _finally_. Are you done moping then?” Crowley was still bitter about being forced into hiding and was bored out of his gourd waiting.

Cas didn’t comment, but looked at Crowley with as much affection as one would a dog that had shat on the floor.

“So tell me about what we are waiting on then. How are you going to fix me up?” Crowley rubbed his hands together in anticipation – and to hide his nerves.

“I doubt whatever God has done to you is something I could change. But we need to know what that change is if we have any chance of getting the rest of the angels off our back. Otherwise they would likely destroy you – either in attempting to extract information about this “gift” or disassembling you completely in hopes that doing so would reveal more of God’s Plan.” Castiel admitted.

“ _Fuck_.” Crowley swore – was it too much to ask to just return to being a demon?

“And I doubt you will like what… _methods_ we could attempt to use that are the least likely to reduce you to a pile of sulfurous ash – no matter how appealing the prospect might seem.” Crowley had a hard time trying to tell if Castiel was being serious or not.

“Well, go on! Tell me already. I’m not going to like anything you suggest out of principle, anyway.” Crowley bantered – hoping that Cas was joking.

Castiel gave a small smile, which was encouraging. “How long can you remain non-corporeal and here in the living world? Neutral territory, as it were.”

“Not long.” Crowley admitted.

“My grace is anathema to anything unclean. If I tried to examine you directly, you would die.” Cas continued. “That leaves three viable options. Either we find a willing being powerful and perceptive enough to examine you for the brief time you can remain outside your vessel without destroying you. Or you enlist the help of the demons in hell to perform the examination.”

“Well, from what I understand, everyone powerful enough for option one has already offed themselves during Armageddon. And the demons are probably just as likely to tear me to ribbons as the angels are – I don’t care how much things seem to have changed from the good old days.” Crowley complained, but Castiel just nodded. Crowley also had doubts that the demons would even be able to recognize any minor alterations of his demonic structure.

“Exactly. Which leaves the third option.” Cas said coyly.

Crowley just glared back. He was tired of waiting.

“If you were no longer unclean… I could examine you. We could… _cure_ you.” Castiel offered.

Crowley covered his face behind his hands. Why this again? “Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of my coming here?! If God had wanted a human, he could have sent me back as one.” His lips burned from saying the name. “And what point is there in trying to figure out what is different about me if we change things even more?!” He was angry at Castiel for even suggesting it.

“You never fully turned back, even after weening yourself from the blood. Sam’s spell changed you many years ago. All this would be is a push back towards humanity.” Cas tried to explain. “And… perhaps God wanted to leave the choice up to you – if that truly is what He really cares about. You could change vessels, hide down in Hell, struggle alone to repair things. Or… you could become human, and fight alongside us again. It’s your choice.”

“Whatever was done to me has crippled me to that of a lowly _imp_! This isn’t a choice! I’m being forced into this!” Crowley spat, fuming. But he knew it wasn’t completely true. His powers were _reduced_ , yes, but not gone. A few decades back in Hell and he would be almost as good as new.

Castiel didn’t seem to buy his tantrum any more than Crowley had – but he didn’t mention it.

Crowley considered what accepting Castiel’s offer would mean. He still craved the blood. It was an ache he had learned to put in the back of his mind. He wanted to say yes. “But… I wouldn’t be able to… I couldn’t fight. Not really. The King of Hell can’t be a powerless mortal!” He would be giving that dream up too, he realized, for the second time in only a few days.

Still Cas didn’t respond.

The sun went down and it was well into the night before Crowley answered further. It was difficult to say, he found himself fumbling with the words. “A..al..alright.” He stuttered. “I’ll take it.”

“Good. I’ll tell Dean. Stay in the circle.” Cas disappeared.

***---***---***

Crowley’s Lexus had finally had enough. It spewed black smoke from under the hood and started making a terrible noise. At least it had broken down after getting them past the dry, barren expanse of Nevada – and only a couple miles outside a tiny town with only one stop light. The downside was that the repairs would take precious time that they didn’t have.

“We could abandon her – all four of us will fit in the Impala.” Sam suggested reluctantly, as all the gear they had brought would have to be removed from the back or abandoned as well.

“But six of us won’t.” Dean reminded him. They had taken two vehicles in the first place in case they needed to split up and to have enough seats for everyone for when they reunited with Crowley and Castiel.

“Just until we reach a larger city then. One with a still functioning Rent-a-Car.” Charlie countered.

“Maybe. Baby could use a tune-up as well before we go too much further. But I can’t keep my eyes open to drive.” Dean admitted. They had been pushing too hard – the last decent place to spend the night had been two hours behind them.

“And whose fault is that?” Sam wheedled. He had probably been pestering Dean to switch for almost as long – Bobby and Charlie just following along after the long, black car. It was nearing midnight.

Dean seemed too tired to argue. “Alright, alright. Take the wheel.” He passed over the car keys, and also the tough decision making, to his brother.

Bobby watched all this in mute frustration. Dean was so tired he could have driven them off a cliff. He hadn’t even noticed the other car drift to a stop on the side of the road. They had to call Sam to make Dean double back to their location.

“We could pray to Cas.” Sam suggested.

“Dude… that’s probably the last thing he needs.” Dean shot the idea down, but his eyes lit up at the thought regardless. Honestly, if Sam and Charlie hadn’t noticed anything before – it was as plain as day on the young hunter’s face. Dean was anxious about being away from Castiel too long.

“I vote for the closest motel and all decisions put on hold until after a big cup of coffee in the morning.” Charlie yawned. Out of all of them, she was the least happy on long road trips. Her expertise was in research, data mining, and breaking into encrypted files – not active duty.

But they didn’t need to take a vote, as Castiel appeared at Dean’s side. The angel’s sudden arrival startling them all into shocked silence.

“Er… Cas. How’s Crowley?” Bobby was the first to recover.

“He’s safe, for now. I came to ensure you had the proper gear for when you arrive tomorrow.” Cas answered, walking over to the still smoking Lexus.

“It’s probably blown a gasket or something. I haven’t had a chance to look yet.” Bobby knew cars, but he wouldn’t put it past his luck for the whole damn engine to have seized up – it was certainly beyond any quick fix with duct tape and super glue.

“It should run fine now.” Castiel said blandly after touching the car’s hood briefly, the smoke evaporating as if it had never been there at all.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Dean asked, carefully – obviously referring to Cas’ use of his grace.

Cas resumed his place beside Dean. “No. But you will all be on the move again in just a few moments. Don’t stop – we will need to start the process immediately.”

“Start what now?” Sam asked for everyone’s benefit.

“Crowley has agreed to be cured. Bring the right gear. Now drive.” Cas answered quickly to an even more shocked audience, but turned to Dean before he disappeared again. They shared a tender moment gazing into each other’s eyes – which seemed to make Sam very uncomfortable.

“Erm. Yey! Right, more weepy demon.” Sam coughed. Castiel vanished.

The angel was gone for a few seconds before anyone moved. Bobby passed his own keys on to Charlie and they all piled back into their respective vehicles. He wasn’t about to try and drive after hearing what awaited them up on the Oregon coast.

***---***---***

They drove through the night and most of the following day – only stopped briefly for food, supplies, car maintenance, and once for a quick rest at a truck stop. Bobby lamented the loss of his home and all the information it housed. He distinctly remembered having dealt with a nest of vampires in Eugene once, but couldn’t remember his contact for dead man’s blood. Not that they would be pumping any of that into Crowley – but he recalled how much fresh blood it took the first time they attempted this.

Dean insisted they stop and eat at a real, sit-down diner before tackling the last hour of travel. It was a nice reprieve from gas station burritos and drive-through burgers. Sam and Charlie were delighted by the many salad options on the menu, while Dean ordered his regular burger and fries. Bobby got the roasted chicken breast – mostly because it came with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Charlie noted to Bobby in a whisper as they were finishing their meal. The brothers were arguing about getting dessert.

Bobby didn’t want to acknowledge his rising anxiety. “So?”

“It’s okay to be nervous.” Charlie offered, kindly.

Bobby grunted. “Nothing we haven’t faced before.” Which was almost true.

“I _really_ hate needles. But I’ll tough it out – give my fair share of blood, if it means we get him back.” Charlie continued. Bobby was touched.

Sam seemed to convince Dean that they could enjoy some celebratory pie on the way home, so they paid the bill and prepared to leave. Something that had changed after the Apocalypse was a reversion to strict use of paper money over plastic. They each added a couple bills to the pile from their dwindling supply. Bobby saw Charlie add an extra tip – probably because the waitress had made sure her drink had been topped off a tad more often than was strictly necessary.

As they piled into the car, Bobby couldn’t help but feel a tad guilty. Was this little band of a family he had made for himself doing all of this for him? Did they feel bad about his loss? If anything, they should feel bad for Sam and Charlie – with no prospects of finding love in the near future, hiding away from the world in the bunker. At least they wouldn’t have to hide their knowledge of monsters and magic.

“Say, Charlie?” Bobby asked once they made it to the highway.

“Yeah?” Charlie asked, stifling a yawn.

“You should get out more. Live a little. You’re only young once, after all.” Bobby said. “After this mission, maybe you could go to one of those conventions you keep talking about.”

Charlie smiled sadly. “Thanks, Bobby. But they haven’t held one for a while now. Too much of a luxury to spend time on pretend when real life is just as exciting… and far more dangerous.”

“Bad excuse.” Bobby replied.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Charlie agreed.

They didn’t talk again until they could see the ocean. Dean seemed to know exactly where to go, as they followed the Impala off the main road and up and down a winding gravel road.

“Looks like a seasonal fishing area – probably abandoned.” Bobby mentioned.

“By the looks of things, possibly before the Apocalypse too.” Charlie added. The peeling paint and dirty windows of the infrequent wooden shacks they passed spoke of neglect. Not another soul was in sight.

“Dean always did like fishing.” Bobby supplied further.

“How romantic – thinking of him and Cas out here in the cold, gutting fish.” Charlie laughed.

Bobby chuckled as well. “Those two are a bit obvious.”

“More than just a bit.” Charlie acknowledged, giving Bobby a knowing look. “Sam and I have a bet going. You want in?”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Bobby countered, unsure if he really wanted to hear.

“Oh, please! Nothing like that. Sam just thinks that Cas will be the one to announce their relationship. I’m betting on Dean.” Charlie laughed again.

“Idjits. They do still seem to think they are hiding it, don’t they?” Bobby mused.

“Come on. What’s your guess?” Charlie begged.

Bobby let himself indulge. “Fifty bucks that the poor sods do it together then.”

“Deal.”

***---***---***

Crowley was jolted awake by the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires outside. What had he been doing asleep? He glared at Castiel who was standing on guard at the door, as if it had been the angel’s fault. Cas didn’t seem alarmed, so Crowley hoped that this was the arrival of the rest of the team – finally. Until he remembered what that would mean.

“Cas?” Crowley whispered, just in case.

Instead of answering though, Cas just opened the door and walked out to meet everyone. Crowley could recognize Dean and Sam’s voices. He contemplated abandoning the protective circle Castiel had drawn around him, but thought better of it. Car doors slammed outside and then a trunk.

Crowley did not feel ready for what was about to happen. He remembered the elation of raw emotions that human blood gave him – but also the remorse, the swell of guilt, and the pain. He remembered crying in front of the younger Winchester once and babbling off something truly embarrassing. Crowley wondered if the hunters would be decent enough to not stay as an audience to his remaking this time. The shack only had one room.

It was Bobby who came inside first. “Crowley. You still up for this?” The man asked as if he still had the choice to say no.

“Just do it.” Crowley tried to bite, but it came out a little weak.

The red-headed girl, Charlie, came in next. He glared at her, just for the fun of it. She ignored him. She was followed closley by Castiel and the brothers, who were carrying several bags of supplies.

“We need to start right away. This will take some time.” Cas said hurriedly.

“Before you get too cozy – I do have a request, to salvage what dignity I have left.” Crowley announced.

Everyone stopped and waited to hear him out.

“Can… can you all wait outside? After you give it to me. Just wait outside.” His request sounded more like a plea as his voice shook a little with nerves.

Dean looked skeptical, but the others seemed to consider it – without too much pity in their eyes. Sam answered for everyone. “That’s fair.”

But Bobby asked for more. “To have enough blood, we will all need to give some. But only one of us is needed for the injections. They will need to be given in regular intervals throughout the night. The demon infused blood inside your body burns a lot of it away at first. Who should do it?”

The logistics of it hadn’t really occurred to Crowley. He didn’t want any of them to see him come undone. “Er. You. I want you to do it.” He managed to mutter, his cheeks burning a bit in embarrassment – another emotion he really shouldn’t have access to as a demon, he reminded himself. Despite everything, Crowley still trusted the old hunter the most.

“One night sleeping in the car isn’t so bad, I guess.” Dean relented.

“We all need to drink this first.” Sam procured a simple potion he had obviously concocted in the car on their drive over – bits of herbs still floating around in a plastic water bottle filled with a pale yellow liquid. “Just a few swallows each.”

They passed the bottle around. It did not look like it tasted good.

“I wish I could risk using my grace to cleanse your blood and draw it painlessly.” Castiel added guiltily.

“Save that up for the ride out of here. You can finish your examination back at the bunker.” Dean replied. “As much as I’ve enjoyed getting glimpses of our dream road trip – I’ve had enough of this pointless running around.”

Cas looked a bit affronted at Dean’s comment. They all knew the angel was just trying to keep them safe. The last time another angel had gotten into the bunker things had not ended well – as their former War Room could attest.

“Okay. Who is going first?” Sam was prepping a needle and collection bag.

“Not it!” Dean and Charlie said at the same time.

“Thanks a lot.” Came a sarcastic retort from the soon-to-be-cured demon.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “I’ll go first.”

“Dean… the wards.” Castiel reminded them. They could still use some extra protection, just in case.

“On it.” Dean went back outside to get the holy oil.

Bobby rolled up his sleeve and looked away as Sam worked. The needle was cold. By the time the holy oil was lit and the appropriate wards carved into the door and the walls, inside and out, Sam had drawn as much blood as was safe. Bobby felt a bit drowsy and was grateful to already be sitting down.

“That wasn’t so bad. Now do me.” Sam handed fresh tools over to Bobby. “We can get the squeamish ones later.” He teased, nodding to Charlie and Dean.

“Hey!” Dean protested.

***---***---***

Crowley’s Lexus had reclining seats, which were quickly snatched up by Charlie and Sam. Dean stubbornly camped out in the front of the Impala, leaving the back for Bobby. Cas stood just outside the shack’s door, eternally watchful, while the others tried to get some shut-eye.

Bobby was inside the shack, preparing the first injection. He was trying to avoid conversation. This was the second time he had agreed to do this, after all. All the things he had said to the demon the first time seemed to be coming back to him – but he was unsure if they would be welcome.

“Bobby. Say something.” Crowley finally asked.

“Like what?” Bobby returned.

“Tell me this is stupid. That this isn’t necessary. Tell me anything.” Crowley almost seemed scared.

Bobby contemplated how to continue. “You can still back out. We could try another way.”

“That’s just it. I don’t want to do this. But at the same time… I long for it.” Crowley closed his eyes. His voice had dropped to a whisper – as if the admission was to be kept secret.

“We would keep you around, red eyes and all. You know we would.” Bobby whispered back.

“Be a bloody prisoner in that bunker again? No thank you.” Crowley growled.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Bobby bit back.

Crowley opened his eyes. “But that is what I would be, so long as the angels are looking for me.”

Bobby didn’t reply to that.

“I might need… some help. Staying in place, that is. I don’t want to lash out and drag this out any longer than it has to be.” Crowley admitted further, in an even softer whisper.

“What can I do?” Bobby asked.

“Bind me to the chair. Tie me back up if I get loose.” Crowley supplied.

Bobby sighed. He had anticipated something of the sort, but was surprised Crowley asked for it up front. He wordlessly dug some rope out of one of the bags and complied. It felt wrong, doing this to someone conscious and who wasn’t a threat.

“Better.” Crowley said.

“You all set?” Bobby asked, ready to proceed.

“ _Fucking_ no. But do it anyway.” Crowley braced himself.

The needle slid in smoothly – Crowley didn’t even flinch from the small discomfort. He was bracing himself for what came next. It was pleasant at first, his craving lapping up this drug happily. But then it began to burn. Was his demonic self pushing back? The rush of emotion quickly turned sour, as he knew it would. Tears welled up.

“Do you want me to go?” Bobby asked, quietly.

The blood bag was securely attached to a make shift pole, dribbling in a steady stream of the old hunter’s own life giving – and very human, essence. Crowley feared that if he opened his mouth to respond he would scream or cry out something he would regret later. So he nodded instead.

Bobby left quietly. Once Crowley was alone, he let the tears fall.

***---***---***

Bobby did not get much rest. After exiting the shack, he had a word with Cas about making sure Crowley was kept safe, and then he retired to the backseat of the Impala. Dean was snoring. Seeing the demon willingly take in his blood to become human had sparked that dangerous feeling of hope into resurfacing. But Crowley was in pain – that much he knew.

 _His_ Crowley had talked about it only once. He described how it pooled into his mind feelings he had long since forgotten were even possible to feel. Elation. Ecstasy. Joy. But that these feelings were short-lived. Guilt. Shame. Worry. He recalled being able to remember every misdeed he had carried out over the centuries – his previously callous attitude towards his crimes against innocent and damned souls alike challenged by a re-discovered sense of morality.

After an hour of laying awake, Bobby checked on Crowley. The bag had completely emptied. The demon seemed asleep, except that his breathing was a little too swift. Bobby attached a new bag. When the blood started flowing again, Crowley sighed in obvious relief.

Bobby exited the shack again, but didn’t even try to lay down. Instead he leaned against the car and looked up at the sky. There were only a couple openings through the clouds for a handful of stars to shine down. The constant ocean breeze and the sound of the waves was calming. Small drops of rain began to fall, but not enough to worry about.

He tried to remember happy memories from his time with Crowley instead. This version of Crowley might never be his, but this transformation would allow him to find true happiness in life again. Bobby had taken up cooking because it was something Crowley had learned to enjoy once he had to eat regular meals again. Crowley was a snob about making sure things were prepared just so.

Bobby wished he had thought of that earlier. Crowley would likely be famished after the change. They hadn’t even gone shopping, so the options for a meal back at the bunker were limited. Maybe Cas would agree to take them back to the city near the bunker instead and they could treat Crowley to pancakes at IHOP. Bobby tried to recall if that was one of the places that had survived the Apocalypse.

“He is… starting to make a lot of noise.” Cas suddenly said from behind Bobby, making him jump.

Bobby understood immediately. He rushed back to the shack. Crowley was whimpering and struggling to free himself – tears streaking down his cheeks. He had been sick. It was a pathetic sight.

“Shhh. Crowley, you’re doing well. I’ll clean that up. Shhh. You’re okay.” Bobby tried to calm Crowley down.

“Make it stop.” Crowley begged.

“You know I can’t.” Bobby replied sadly. He wet a spare shirt with water from a canteen, mopped Crowley’s brow, rinsed off his beard, and soaked up the rest as best as possible. Things were going to get worse before they got better.

“Please.” Crowley tried again.

“Shhhh. Not much longer and I can change the bag.” Bobby hoped that would be comforting. He started to leave again, but was stopped short.

“No! Please. Don’t go.” Crowley called out – loud and desperate.

“Alright.” Bobby replied, trying to decide how to proceed. He brought the other chair out of the corner and set it up a respectable distance away, but still within Crowley’s line of sight.

“How… how did he do it? The other me.” Crowley asked after regaining some of his composure.

Bobby considered telling him everything he knew. His Crowley had only spoken of it once – this was probably the hardest thing he had ever experienced. Crowley was normally cocky, confident, and witty. Right now, he was none of those things.

“We saw him through. Just like we are now.” Bobby answered.

“Why?” Crowley asked breathlessly.

“He was a part of the team. He was… my friend.” Bobby admitted.

“But why? I’ve done… so _much_.” Crowley was weeping openly.

Bobby sighed. “Remorse is a very _human_ emotion. You aren’t the only one who feels that way. We’ve all got blood on our hands.”

“Not… the same.” Crowley complained.

“Perhaps not. But you want to know something else?” Bobby asked.

“What?” Crowley spat.

“At times… I think us humans can forgive a soul, even when God can’t.”

Crowley cried. Bobby stayed by his side throughout the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully the angels still hadn’t found them by the time the sun finally peaked over the mountains and bathed the ocean in orange, glittering light. It had been a long and stressful night. Bobby had to wake Dean and Charlie for their donations – which finally slowed Crowley’s demon infused body from burning through their meager supply too quickly. Bobby tried not to think of the screams that shook the warped plank walls of the shack and chilled him to his core.

Bobby was also grateful that Castiel did not seem over eager to probe the former demon immediately after such a harrowing trial. Crowley had stopped struggling at least, so Bobby had untied him. Silent tears still lingered on Crowley’s cheeks, unchecked. He hadn’t spoken anything more to anyone and no one dared ask. Bobby doubted that the other hunters had got any more sleep than he had.

“He’s fully human now. Or at least, human-like. His soul… well….” Castiel trailed off.

“Will that be a problem?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know.” Cas answered truthfully. “But afterwards… the Crowley of this world got along fine.”

Dean, Sam, and Charlie were all up and walking about outside – obviously time to get a move on. Bobby needed a big cup of coffee, some eggs, sausages, ham, bacon... he had given quite a lot of blood to Crowley after all, and so had the others.

“Cas. We all need a proper meal. Can we risk a jump?” Bobby inquired.

“My brothers have grown silent – which makes me nervous.” Castiel didn’t quite answer.

“A drive into town then? We did bring two cars for a reason.” Bobby suggested.

Cas just nodded and left the shack, leaving Bobby alone with Crowley. Bobby hesitantly looked over at the man who looked identical to someone he had dearly loved – except filthy, covered in sweat, and still far too pale. It made his chest ache.

“What say you to a bath, a change of clothes, and a hearty breakfast?” Bobby tried. Crowley didn’t answer, but he looked up at Bobby in acknowledgement. He looked too crushed, drained, and exhausted to respond properly anyway.

“One thing is for sure, they aren’t going to let you in to eat looking like that. Let’s clean you up a bit before we pack up, eh?” Bobby dug through his own duffle bag and pulled out a few things.

Again, Crowley didn’t respond. Bobby wasn’t sure if the former demon had the strength to do it himself. The first time this had happened, it was days before Crowley had recovered enough to take care of everything – so Bobby felt no guilt in carefully removing Crowley’s thoroughly ruined suit, using the last of their water to rinse him down the best he could, and dressing him back up in his own spare clothes.

But something he did not expect happened as he put a comb to Crowley’s hair.

“Bobby?” Crowley’s voice croaked out, his eyes struggling to focus on the man in front of him. His hand grasping at Bobby’s arm, tight as a vice.

“It’s okay, Crowley. It’s over now.” Bobby tried to soothe.

“Something… is… wrong… with me.” Crowley’s voice shook with worry.

Bobby’s chest ached even further. “You’re just flesh and blood again, that’s all. Same as me. You’ll be alright.”

“No… something else.” Crowley clutched at his chest.

“Cas?!” Bobby called. The angel re-appeared at the door to the shack immediately. “Something isn’t right.”

Crowley’s face became contorted and his breathing quickened into sharp gasps. Bobby felt helpless, not sure where to put his hands to help calm him down.

“He’s changing.” Cas said cryptically, tilting his head. He sounded curious rather than alarmed – which was the only reason why Bobby hadn’t started shouting. The others were crowding at the door, trying to catch a glimpse at what was happening inside.

“What do you mean, Cas?” Bobby tried to remain calm, for Crowley’s sake. “Changing how?”

Crowley just kept clutching at his chest, but otherwise he didn’t seem to alter in appearance.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s… something new.” Castiel answered, still unhelpfully.

Crowley had sunk back into the chair and was struggling to breathe. Bobby stroked his back and knelt on one knee beside him, easing the man through whatever was taking place inside.

“Cas?” Dean asked from the door, sounding apprehensive.

“We should move. Whatever is happening might attract attention.” Cas proclaimed, grabbing some of the bags on the floor and heading outside to stash them in one of the cars – prompting the others to move quickly in disbanding their little camp until there was hardly any trace they had been there at all. Cas healed the shack back into perfect shape.

Bobby helped Crowley stand back up, walk shakily to the Lexus, and slide into the back seat before taking the seat next to him, just in case. Charlie took the wheel and they were on the road within minutes. Bobby had been too focused on helping Crowley to pay much attention to the others and had no idea where they were headed.

“Bobby?” Crowley’s breathing was still swift, but not panicky and shallow like before.

“I’m here.” Bobby gave Crowley’s outstretched hand a squeeze.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Crowley pointed to his chest, a look of bewilderment on his face. “It doesn’t hurt! Bobby… it doesn’t hurt!”

“Er… I’m glad to hear it – but don’t go delirious on me.” Bobby gave a nervous glance at Charlie in the rear view mirror.

“It hurt so much before… but it doesn’t hurt now.” Crowley clarified. He stopped clutching at his chest and instead rested his head on Bobby’s shoulder, eyes closing.

Bobby sighed heavily. While this was good news, he still didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Why had Castiel gotten into the other car with Dean and Sam?

“Where are we going, Charlie?” Bobby finally asked gruffly after a few more minutes. They weren’t going back into town, like he thought.

“I have no idea. Just following the Impala.” Charlie dug her phone out of her shirt. “Here… call them.”

After the night he had endured, Bobby had no idea where his own phone had ended up or even if it was charged up enough for a call. He gave a weak smile to Charlie as he took her phone and punched in Dean’s number. It took far too long before someone picked up.

“Charlie?” It was Sam’s voice.

“Where are you idjit’s takin’ us?” Bobby asked gruffly.

“Er… down the coast. Cas said something about finding a safe place to rest up and re-supply.” Sam put the phone on speaker so Bobby did the same. “How is Crowley?”

“He’s resting. What’s going on, Cas?” Bobby demanded.

“I won’t know for sure until I can examine him closely. The other angels are… loud at the moment. Whatever has happened, they seem to know about it.” Castiel sounded oddly muffled. “We are lucky they haven’t found us yet.”

Bobby just grumbled. “Lucky my ass. You’re using your mojo to try and shroud our presence, aren’t you?”

“Cas?” Dean’s concerned voice cut through loud and clear.

“We can stop soon.” Castiel sounded winded.

“I thought using your mojo was a bad idea?” Sam asked.

“Not mojo… warding symbols. On the back of the Lexus. Remaining this close is just proving… difficult. Tell Charlie to… keep a little distance.” Cas gasped out.

Charlie immediately slowed the car a bit, lengthening the gap between them.

“Thanks. We should stay hidden like this… for a little while at least.” Cas voice was less strained.

“Fucking idiot, why didn’t you say something sooner?” Dean sounded angry.

“Er… thought I could hold out longer. I’m fine… really.” Castiel sounded chastened.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Bitch at your angel later, Dean. None of us are going to get far without a decent meal and some rest. How much further?”

“It is raining up ahead. Should wash away the symbols. We can stop after that.” Cas answered. Indeed, dark clouds were hanging low not too far ahead of them. “It will also help keep us hidden.”

“Fine. But call back if anything changes.” Bobby hung up.

Crowley had gone to sleep. Bobby has first assumed that was a good sign, but was starting to have second thoughts. He checked that the man draped against his side was breathing evenly and that his pulse was strong and steady. The change still hadn’t made any outward sign, so far as he could tell. Perhaps it was over? Was Crowley still semi-human… or something else now? Things were happening too fast.

If Charlie noticed Bobby stroke Crowley’s cheek, she didn’t say anything. The promised rain started as a light drizzle against the car windows before escalating to a steady roar – white noise that brought Bobby’s mind from the extraordinary back to reality. Crowley was no longer a demon. They were safe… for now. It was easy to lean his own head against Crowley in return and relax. Before he even realized he had dozed off, Charlie slowed to a gentle stop.

“Looks like the boys want food first. Figures.” Charlie said softly. “Up and at ‘em, Bobby. And bring your boyfriend.” She slipped out of the car before Bobby could reply – Crowley hadn’t stirred.

Bobby took in his surroundings. He and Crowley had become a little more entangled than he remembered. His cheeks burned. They weren’t really together – at least not like before. This wasn’t _his_ Crowley, after all. The reminder was painful, but necessary.

“Come on, Crowley. Time for that breakfast I promised.” Bobby gently tried to wake the other man.

“Mrr…erm.” The former demon had never been that articulate in the mornings.

Bobby shook Crowley a bit harder. “You’ve got to be hungry by now. Come on.”

Crowley opened his eyes blearily and thankfully seemed more or less coherent this time. “Where are we?”

“At some local joint called _The Merman_. Says they serve breakfast all day, right on the sign.” While the rain was still falling, it had lessened enough to see outside clearly again. Dean, Sam, and Cas were piling out of the Impala just beside them.

Crowley scratched at his chest, looking a bit lost. Bobby thought it best not to bring up the change just then. Instead, he opened the car door and helped Crowley out. The two of them made their way slowly to the restaurant entrance behind their friends. Besides a couple cars that probably belonged to the staff, they seemed to be the only ones there.

 _The Merman_ turned out to be a diamond in the rough. One of those places that served generous portions of expertly prepared, homemade meals for a decent price – with a waitress that was pleasant without being overbearing, nosey, or judgmental. Bobby was sure they all looked quite strange, not just Crowley. Cas still wore his signature suit and trench coat, Dean in a damp t-shirt, lumberjack Sam, and Charlie in her colorful anime-print hoodie.

They tucked into the food eagerly. The place wasn’t quite large enough to ensure that any conversation they had would remain private, so they played the part of a family on a road trip – even asking the waitress if she could recommend a nice place to stay nearby. It wasn’t too far off the truth, after all.

“Sorry, not much around here so far as lodging goes. Just Old Ben’s Motel, the trailer park, and the odd fishing cabin for rent. How long are you here for?” She asked sweetly.

They all looked to Cas. “Er… a few nights.” The angel spluttered.

“Frenchie owns a cabin with three bedrooms. Not too far from the station and go-mart. Would you like her number?” The waitress added. “She’s awful nice, and you would be much more comfortable.”

“Yeah… that sounds great!” Dean cut in, to save Cas from having to answer for all of them again. He handed her his last hundred dollar bill without even looking at the amount.

“Be back in a moment then.” She left to grab some flyers from the counter with the information they needed.

“You sure we want to stay put that long?” Bobby asked in a whisper. He looked nervously at Crowley, who had kept silent throughout the meal.

“What’s wrong with the motel?” Sam interjected.

Dean just shrugged and looked to Castiel.

“We seem to have escaped notice for now. It might be prudent to lay low for a while. Renting a cabin would be… out of the ordinary for us. Less likely to be searched than the only motel in town.” Cas finished just as their waitress returned.

“There you are.” She placed Dean’s change on the table along with a couple pamphlets and a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. “Stay as long as you like – I’ll just be in the back if you need anything. Hope to see you all again.” And with that she disappeared into the kitchens.

***---***---***

Bobby kept a close eye on Crowley all throughout the rest of the afternoon as they negotiated a two night stay at Frenchie’s cabin, purchased some groceries at the go-mart, and placed warding all over the spacious fishing shack’s walls. The former demon seemed confused and distracted, but otherwise whole and hale. He still didn’t say a word – which was rather unlike him.

Dean had insisted on assigning the rooms himself. Sam and Charlie took the largest room with the en-suite, Bobby and Crowley had the room on the main floor, while Dean and Cas took the loft. Sam rolled his eyes dramatically at this, but didn’t comment. Once they were finally situated, Bobby could feel the strain of the night before weighing heavily on him – he suspected that Crowley might need some more rest too, even if he hadn’t said so.

“Okay… now that we are safely in hiding again, I reckon we don’t want to risk a detailed examination on… whatever Crowley is now?” Dean asked the group.

“Not immediately… no.” Castiel offered. “But I’d like try some preliminary tests without using my grace. The more we know, the better.”

Bobby felt really old, but had to speak up. “Surely they can wait until tonight? Crowley isn’t about to spontaneously combust if we get a little rest in.”

Thankfully, Charlie came to his defense. “I second getting in a nap! Being chased by angels is no picnic.”

“Alright…” Dean agreed reluctantly. “Cas, you okay to keep watch for a bit?”

“Always.” Castiel answered.

The hunters and a strangely despondent former demon shuffled away to their respective rooms. There wasn’t a proper bed, but rather two cots upon which Bobby unrolled their sleeping bags. Crowley still hadn’t said a word.

“Crowley… you must be tired. Do you need anything else?” Bobby tried to get a response from his new roommate. Crowley didn’t seem to have heard him, so Bobby grabbed both of his shoulders and asked him again, looking him in the eyes.

“Er… no. This is fine.” Crowley shook his head, but didn’t make any motion towards the cot Bobby had prepared for him.

“What’s wrong?” Bobby asked, concerned.

Crowley shook his head again. “My head… it’s so loud. I can hear… too much.”

Bobby doubted that was a good sign. “Uh… what do you mean, Crowley? What can you hear?”

“I’m not sure. They talk strangely and so fast…” Crowley trailed off.

“Crowley. What. Can. You. Hear?” Bobby demanded.

Crowley tilted his head to one side and closed his eyes. “I think I can hear… angels. Bobby… I can’t make it stop. I can’t tune them out.” He was beginning to sound panicked.

“Angels?” Bobby deadpanned. “The King of Hell is picking up Heaven’s Radio. _God_ … this is weird.”

“So many voices. Make it stop. Please… make it stop.” Crowley begged.

Bobby took the other man into his arms. “I wish I could, Crowley. Charlie probably has some music? Should I go ask?”

Crowley accepted the embrace but didn’t reply immediately. “This… helps, somehow. If I focus on just right here… right now.”

Bobby stroked Crowley’s back. The momentary hug he had planned lingered, but not in an awkward way. It felt right, almost like he had gained back his missing half. At the thought, however, Bobby pulled away. This still wasn’t _his_ Crowley.

“Lay down at least. You seemed to do okay in the car – think you can get some sleep?” Bobby tried.

Crowley obediently tucked himself into the sleeping bag and closed his eyes, but didn’t reply. After another moment or two, Bobby curled up in his own sleeping bag and drifted off for some much needed rest.

***---***---***

The King of Hell slept poorly. His now mortal body was exhausted enough to allow him to sink into unconsciousness, but his mind kept racing with unfamiliar voices even in his dreams. He could feel something new inside his chest, something that would grow and develop should he allow it. It was warm and bright – but frightening in its strangeness.

That was when he heard his name. He was being called to by one of the unfamiliar voices in his head. It was a whisper, rather than inane chatter or exclamations of anger or frustration like the rest. The voice was calming. Crowley was wary – he hadn’t climbed to the top of the pack in Hell by leaving his guard down, after all. But the voice was patient and kept calling, expecting a reply that Crowley didn’t know how to give.

**_Crowley…_ **

Who are you? Crowley attempted. But it just echoed inside his head as one of his own thoughts.

**_Former Demon… Touched by God…_ **

Again Crowley tried to answer, and failed.

**_Crowley… reach out with the blessing inside you… Reach out…_ **

Crowley’s focus on the one, quiet voice made the rest of the voices seem dull and muffled. He wondered if he would be able to do so in the waking world.

**_Crowley…_ **

The voice remained calm and gentle, but the insistence didn’t lesson. It made him cross. The warm brightness in his chest didn’t feel attached to him like an arm or a leg. He couldn’t reach out to it and manipulate it as he would his body. However the voice wanted him to use it seemed impossible.

**_Don’t be afraid, Crowley…_ **

The former demon wasn’t afraid so much as annoyed. The voices got louder again, drowning out his own thoughts and making everything fuzzy. He ached for rest after his ordeal. Taking in human blood gave him a taste of being whole again, only to be pained by loss and guilt once it wore off. Taking it in over and over again until the fire and ash that swam through his system was washed away with feelings, petty concerns, hopes, and dreams of mortal men was almost unbearably painful.

And then the pain stopped. Crowley remembered how the ache had suddenly lessoned as the warm, bright feeling inside him grew. It was intangible, yet he could feel its presence. He supposed it had blossomed into being once his demonic side had disappeared completely – dormant until given the right conditions. God had placed it there.

**_Crowley…_ **

**_DAMN IT! WHAT?_** And this time, in his anger, he knew that it had worked. The deafening silence that followed was proof enough. All of the voices stopped.

**_Perhaps a little softer. I had hoped to reach you without alerting my brothers._ **

Who are you? Crowley tried again, but it didn’t work. He had to try and concentrate on what had made the connection. It was emotion, he decided. His outburst of anger had triggered it.

He tried again, this time, in a whisper – allowing only a righteous burn of anger to carry his words aloft into the ether. **_Who are you?_**

**_That’s…_ better _. I am Joshua._**

Crowley anger lessoned now that he could respond. **_What do you want?_**

**_Nothing. Only to welcome you, former demon. God has set you on a path most… unexpected. I greet you and offer my help – should you need it._ **

Joshua was an angel, and Crowley wasn’t about to trust one just by saying pretty words. **_I don’t know what you mean. Bugger off!_**

This time it was laughter that Crowley heard. Not threatening or malicious, but gentle with mirth ** _. I suspect you might need a little time to adjust. Being born anew can be confusing at first._**

The background chatter resumed again, fiercer than before, but Crowley was able to tune it out. Crowley moaned. **_What’s happened to me?_**

**_You are something new. God’s first creation in millennia._ **

**_And what exactly has he changed me into? I didn’t ask for this!_** Crowley could tell anger was seeping into his words again, making it seem like he was shouting.

**_Peace. You will discover in time._ **

Crowley could feel his body starting to awaken, tossing and turning on the cot. He grumbled back. **_Bloody angels._**

Crowley’s connection to Joshua snapped as he regained consciousness, making him wonder if he had dreamt the whole conversation. Castiel was standing over his cot, a hand on his shoulder – face ashen. The voices returned, demanding, and louder than ever.

“Finally! You sleep like the dead. What are you playing at, shouting like that while we are in hiding? You’re lucky the angels don’t burst through the door this moment and kill the lot of us!” Cas said angrily.

“Er…” Crowley was trying to understand why the angel was so upset.

“Crowley… what’s wrong?” Bobby asked, not much further away.

“He basically screamed into the Ether. Don’t do that again!” Castiel rounded on Crowley.

“Fuck off! I didn’t even know I could.” Crowley beat at his chest. “The voices are so loud. Whatever I am now… whatever is in here… it’s a bloody curse.”

Cas looked a bit taken aback. This time, when he reached out with a gentle hand the voices stopped completely. Crowley sighed in relief. “You can hear them.” Cas wasn’t asking.

“Not now. Oh, thank your feathery ass! How did you make it stop?” Crowley sank back onto the bed, ready for a proper nap now that the voices were gone.

“Er… I just turned down the… volume. You mean you can’t feel your connection to the other plane?” Castiel asked, bewildered.

“Connection to _what_ now?” Crowley bantered back.

“The Ether. Where angels store their wings while in mortal vessels. The channel in which we speak to each other. It is a vast empty space, a plane of existence that exceeds and encompasses this one.” Cas explained hurriedly.

“Is that _all_?” Bobby’s sarcasm was heavy enough that even Castiel seemed to catch on.

“I’m sorry. It has always been so easy for me… I suppose it might take some practice to get used to. But you really mustn’t – not now anyway. It will attract the angels, just as using my powers would.” Cas shook his head softly. “I suppose I was so focused on getting us to safety I forgot how trying this must be for you, Crowley. Even if… I don’t exactly like you. That’s no excuse.”

Crowley huffed. “The pain is gone. And now that I can hear myself _think_ again, I return the sentiment.” He stuck his tongue out at Castiel, making Bobby laugh.

“Cas?” Came a sleepy voice at the door. Dean had wandered down from the loft, looking for his angel. “Is something wrong?”

“Not anymore. Go back to sleep, Dean.” Cas called out, before returning his attention to Crowley. Cas gave both men a meaningful glare. “If it gets bad again, come get me.”

“I’m hungry.” Crowley said aloud, as the thought struck him. “And tired. And I could use a drink.” It was like someone had flipped a switch, and that was all he could think about. “Oh, I _hate_ being mortal already!”

Bobby laughed again, this time loud enough to wake the house – although he tried to cover his mouth.

“Bobby, I leave our new monster in your capable hands.” Dean said from the door. “Come back to bed, Cas.”

The admission seemed to be accidental, as there was dead silence afterwards. Dean’s face was one of pure horror. It made Bobby laugh even harder – even Crowley couldn’t help chuckle.

“Aye… I’ll take care of him.” Bobby finally got out once he caught his breath.

“Er… I just meant…” Dean blustered, his face turning red.

“I know, Dean. I know.” Bobby said kindly.

“R…right.” Dean stammered. “I’ll… go back to sleep then.” And he left the doorway in a hurry, with Castiel trailing behind him.


End file.
